


icarus complex

by Winkstine5



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Fire, Matches, Pyromania, i was listening to jonas brothers and this spawned, may god have mercy on my soul, trauma mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winkstine5/pseuds/Winkstine5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had his wings burned before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	icarus complex

**Author's Note:**

> characterized with a cathexis of fire; mental or emotional in nature

Fire was fascinating.

It was enthralling.

It was an uncontrolled chaos; a destructive force that eviscerated all that dared to cross within its path. It could be tamed, perhaps, if it were to be blocked in by stone or contained to a single entity like a torch.

They shared many similarities, fire and the Burned Man.

By definition, many would call his fixation with fire to be on par with pyromania.

Joshua would disagree. An interest and a fixation was a far cry from a compulsive order to light fires.

He merely liked staring.

He kept a book of matches on his desk. It was rarely touched, only two matches missing from the book. It was fairly worn, the cover faded with a barely discernable pinup girl printed upon it. The striking strip was hardly usable, half of it peeled off and the other half worn down to a dull condition. The back cover of the book was also faded, the laminated surface scratched enough that the text was barely legible. The edges of the cover were bent inwards towards the book, worn and slightly torn in spots. The spine of the book was terribly flimsy, barely holding together. It was one careless move away from being torn off completely.

But he was not careless.

Not with fire.

Joshua flicked open the book often enough to stare at the eighteen remaining match heads, each a vibrant vermilion colour. For as worn as the matchbook was outside, the matches that lie within were untouched by time. The layered paper that composed the match bodies had not a single crease or imperfection to be seen, all lying perfectly flat against each other.

There were two empty spaces on the right end of the first row of matches, tiny tears visible from where the previous occupants of the spaces had been ripped from the book. The staple that held the entire book together was unreasonably shiny, dimly reflecting the light within his dwelling in Angel Cave.

When he wasn't thumbing through the matchbook, Joshua got his kicks by staring into the fire lit within the cave. He crossed his arms and stood close enough to the flames to be dangerous, one wrong move from ending up within the blistering embrace of the embers. He could vaguely feel the warmth from the fire beneath the safety of his bandages, a dull reminder and warning he didn't bother with.

Each little spark and crack of the burning wood made his fingers twitch in reflex, almost in excitement.

He often stood there in rapture for hours at a time, only interrupted from his reverie when work was to be done.

The first time he lit a match was also the last.

Josh was careful, pinching the match between his burnt thumb and forefinger and twisting, gently wiggling the matchstick and pulling until it popped free from the strip.

He held it up into the light, turning it slowly between his fingers, barely able to feel that match against his skin. In the process of tearing it from the matchbook, he'd bent it enough that the once pin-straight match now leaned at a slight angle; a subtle curve only noticeable when held by the very bottom edge.

Joshua folded the matchbook shut and turned it to the worn striking strip, pressing the phosphorus end against the strip and giving a clean swipe. A popping and sizzling sound followed, Josh lifting his hand to raise the flame to eye level, small sparks emitting from the phosphorus.

It was intoxicating.

For a brush with death so close at the hands of such a small thing; a match thrown upon him when he was doused with pitch and made example by Caeser. He couldn't imagine why he would be as fascinated with fire as he was.

Joshua watched the blaze eat away slowly at the stick of the match, inching closer to his skin. He couldn't feel the heat from the flame as it traveled down, close enough to burn him.

He watched the very edge of the flame lick against his skin before he snubbed it out against his desk, small wisps of smoke wafting from the ashes and ruin of the match towards his face.

The smell of smoke was soothing to him.

It should not have been when it had nearly suffocated him in the bottom of the canyon.

Joshua studied the ashes, rubbing them between his forefinger and thumb slowly. He wondered how close he came to being in a similar position.

He gently scooped up the ashes and the burnt nub of the match stick, rising from his desk to leave the safety of his cave, down to the lower part of the cave. He reached out, dropping the remains into the flames and retracting his hand, slowly crossing his arms.

He stood a bit too close to the flames.


End file.
